Fading Warmth
by 25211021114
Summary: Allen has fragments of his life pieced into three parts: before Mana, with Mana, and after Mana's death. Things have become slightly complicated ever since, but - he decides, life with Mana had been the most fun. And there was once a little boy named Red...


**So, this fic was created on a whim, because I wanted to write something with Mana and Allen in it. I'm pretty nervous posting this, just like when I post every other one, but I hope you like it!**

 **I have no idea how many chapters this fic is gonna have. Let's see how it goes.**

* * *

They are all fools. Mad puppets, their hands and feet hanging on a grip-tight wire, limbs loosely bent as they mindlessly sit. The sunken cheeks, hollow shells. Nobody comes. The endless silence persists, and in looming darkness he shakes.

His gleaming reflection, tampered by the barest of cracks, shatters into thousands of glittering shards. All he gathers are his cheeks, dripping red, painted the colour of blood- and oh! What a _clown_.

A strong laugh bubbles within, and it all explodes into small little giggles of happiness. He doesn't understand why. He laughs. He laughs more than he ever has, and he doesn't understand why. Hiccups suddenly start spilling forth, and now he's crying.

Eyelids start to flutter open.

* * *

 _Day ** Month ** Year ****_

The day drags onwards with a slothful pace, sun beating with such an intensity Red's stomach churns of vomit threatening to spill. The only functional hand of his hurries to load the tray with plates worth of hard work and sweat, something that the performers might kill for if waited upon for too long. Something he isn't privy to.

A shudder works up his spine, and he desperately hastens himself. Wiping a slick of sweat from his forehead, he delivers the food to the next batch of performers. He hopes that they will not shout at him, even though that is unlikely to happen. He has had the pleasure of dealing with Cosmos a while ago, the clown being the first to receive the food. He had, of course, not given up the chance to mess around with Red, complaining loudly about the food just for the sake of it. Red wonders how a person could take so much joy out of tormenting a person.

Red arrives under the tent of two performers, a man and a woman, and is pinned by a dark glare of disgust from the woman who is just coming out from it. He sets the tray on a nearby desk, and flees. He doesn't stop to observe the man's expression.

* * *

 _"Thank you for everyone's patronage today."_

 _The ringmaster's pleased expression, and everyone else's excited chatter. It's as if he's blocked out from this whole scenario, and for some reason the voices are somewhat garbled. His vision is gray. But somehow the ringmaster's voice rings crystal clear._

 _It looks like today's performance is successful as well._

* * *

He has more work to do. The ringmaster has no love for him, and wishes to wring out the most of the money he had spent on him as much as he can. As the young boy goes about completing his daily jobs, he can't resist clutching at his red, disgusting arm. His useless hand, which has no other function than to project hate upon himself. Red bitterly thinks to himself, maybe he has no love for his arm either. It's bad luck, and there have been nights spent on resentful hatred, on his ugly life, his unsightly arm, on this god-damn awful circus.

He just wants to escape.

But he can't - the crushing reality of it all.

* * *

 _"Who was it that took you in, with no memories and ugly looks, who was it that gave you a place to live and a job? Hmm?"_

 _"…It's you, the ringmaster."_

* * *

When he grows up, old enough to fend for himself, he swears, he's going to leave.

* * *

His skin, painted purple with the cruel texture of bright bruises. No one bats an eye as he suffers in the corner, hand shaking in an effort to polish the tools. His reddish hair falls into his eyes, one of which is swelling and is struggling to hold up. They all ignore him. Red also squeezes himself to be as little as possible, trying to extinguish his presence into nothing.

A man passes through, and Red remembers him - the man who uses knives as part of his performance. He remembers because he had just delivered those particular knifes to him, cleanly washed, a few days ago.

The man had at least delivered a thanks to him, though Red had not for the life of him been able to figure out why. Come to think of it, he was one of the few who had actually spoken to him. It had been curt and short, but it was a proper "Thank you." The man had not been looking at him, though.

He looks at him now, and their eyes meet. Deep, swirling pools of deep green, vast as the ocean. _Ah_ , he thinks dazedly, _this is the first time that someone has actually looked at me._ Something warm twitters.

Red snaps out of it, however, when an unsettling feeling curls deep within his gut. He knows it now. Those clear emerald orbs, cold and unfeeling. Void of empathy, the man turns away from the boy, he _walks away_ -

As fleeting as it had been, it all fades quickly.

* * *

 _No one will look at me._

 _But, it's fine like this. I don't want to care about you people either._

* * *

Spring comes and goes, a rapid world spins wildly. Red opens his eyes and is greeted by a harsh, cold vision of white, and another monotone day awaits him. Puffs of thin air wisp out of his mouth, and he observes the stark purity that rains over the pale ground once before starting his day.

He has gone numb, and not by the biting ice that nips at his fingers and toes, it is the repetitive hours that roll away in hammering succession. There is a boring motif, that starts from a bland tune to a screaming nuisance. He has no hands to cover over his ears. There may not even be a tune at all.

But as the falling snowflakes cloud over his lashes and frost his nose, the chilling peacefulness feels as if it suits him just fine.

He's good with being numb.

* * *

 _"Wow…the circus, it's great. You can go to a lot of cities? And can see all sorts of people…it's awesome!"_

 _He has never felt so sour, the anger, the heat- and also the helplessness and resignation._

 _Shock and fear._ Resignation.

* * *

There's a rustle in the circus, which metamorphosizes into full-blown ripples of a disturbance.

A new clown's arrived in town, and he's become the best. Red tunes it all out, but there's a sinking feeling in his stomach that warns him of Cosmos. Cosmos isn't going to be happy. The awful dread that stalks him throughout the day doesn't die away, and doesn't either the next day after.

There is another surprise later on, a pleasant one this time.

* * *

 _"D, dog-?"_

 _Tea coloured fur with soft, soft, white, but it doesn't register his mind until later on._

 _"Ah, wait!"_

 _Hurrying footsteps. A bounding dog._

 _If the prop is lost, I'll be beaten up again, and I will not get anything to eat again._

* * *

 _He throws the ball, over and over again. Somehow, all traces of anger he had previously held for the dog is now lost._

 _The dog catches the ball, tail wagging playfully. Red's heart screams of elation and delight, and this is all so fun._

 _I really want to stay on a stage like this._

* * *

 _They all leave, someday._

 _The dog will leave too._

* * *

 _I can't get close to him._

 _Definitely not._

* * *

The dog is threatened, and it's no surprise that Cosmos is the one that intends to harm him. Red tastes a wave of fear and shock, as Cosmos shoves a bag of glass into his arms. No, no, _no_. Indignant protest spits out of his tongue, and he gets slapped for it. He sees it in Cosmos eyes.

Pure, raw greed, and displaced desperation manifests through. Red knows. The clown that has been stealing Cosmos' popularity, the dog's partner -

The dog is in trouble.

The feeling is indescribable. A swirl of emotions, overwhelming his thought process. Worry, panic, all he thinks about is what is going to happen to the dog -

"…I won't!"

"Hah?"

"I won't do this sort of thing!"

The glass shatters at Cosmos' feet, and the burn of rage melts through Red's brave front. It slowly and surely _breaks_ , and he's treated to a flurry of attacks. He bites his lips. No matter what, he won't go through Cosmos' whims. His body is broken, the kicks becoming something to get used to and he ignores it all.

No matter what.

* * *

 _This dog will leave me soon, together with its owner._

 _If I accept it, it will be especially painful when we say goodbye._

 _No matter what, it will only increase the feelings of loneliness._

 _So I will turn my back to it._

No.

* * *

 _Ah, the dog is alright._

 _A wave of relief._

* * *

It's a image of perfection, and Red can only squint to the brightness of it all. It's glowing, just like the fire of the sun. The embers burn with vigour, and he can't help but _want_ for it, just like the temptation of a forbidden fruit.

The dog and the clown shine like diamond on a hypnotizing stage, and he's being summoned towards it. A pang hits his heart. It reminds him of something he cannot have, something that is too far away from his reach to hold.

He wonders how it's like to be loved.

* * *

 _"Shoo, go away!"_

 _"Ah-"_

 _I, I didn't want—to do this sort of thing…_

 _Blinded by the green-eyed monster eating away at his heart, he runs. He runs and runs and runs. He doesn't look back._

* * *

 _I did something really horrible to it._

 _-It's okay if I just touch it a bit, right?_

 _But I could be hated already._

* * *

 _He strokes the tired dog's fur, and there's a sense of wonder at just how soft it is. He's never really noticed it before. The dog opens his eyes wearily._

 _He licks his hand. Warm._

 _Have I been forgiven?_

* * *

 _If possible, he wants to touch it more._

* * *

 _"It's dead."_

* * *

Christmas is when he meets the mad, mad clown, and it's the day when the dog dies.

"It was definitely done by that guy Cosmos. Because, you're more popular than he is. As long as someone is more popular than him, he would not let it go. His performance skills are obviously bad, but he's good at doing these things!"

 _Despair._

"It had been with me for a very long time, so it wouldn't have much time left anyway. Forget it."

 _The simple grave, marked by a single ball. A ball that he once used to play with the dog._

He's disappointed, with the answer that the clown gives to him. How can he be so calm? So this is the dog's owner. Giving a snarl, he gazes at the dog's grave once more. He can't look away.

* * *

 _"You…why aren't you crying? You lived with this guy. It's not possible not to feel sadness?"_

 _"I'm so sad I could die."_

* * *

"I touched it yesterday, and it licked me, it felt so warm!"

Red's denial rings out loud, and he just can't believe that the dog is dead. Grief. The dog's rolling tongue, wagging tail, it is all burned to the back of his head. Yesterday. Yesterday, the dog was still alive, he was still flesh and blood, full and whole. Today, it is just a wasted corpse, buried deep in the muddy soil.

 _That dog did not care about my ugly hand at all._

"So today, I also…"

He cries. He's never felt like this before. His tears running like waterfalls and rain, his sounds of thunderstorms and crackling lightning. His chest feels so tight, as if it's about to burst. The first time he's cried out loud.

 _I also wanted to pat it today. Like, do your best today as well._

"Why, only having this sort of relationship with it, why am I crying…!"

* * *

 _The clown's smile, gentle and true, observes the child crying quietly._

 _"I see."_

 _The man watches Red, who is crying._

 _"You're Allen's friend."_

* * *

 _\- Friend._

 _Allen._

* * *

 **** **So, um, I didn't expect the development of the relationship between Red and the dog to take up this entire chapter, but here ya go. The life before Mana.**

 **I have to apologize in advance, as this is going to have sporadic updates. Life is gonna get in the way, and I've resigned to the fact that life is going to get in the way forever. I have so much respect for authors with update schedules...**

 **Please leave a review?**


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